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Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


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The Little Cousin Series 

By Mary Hazelton Wade 

Ten volumes , illustrated 

& 

PREVIOUSLY ISSUED 

Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Brown Cousin 
Our Little Indian Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 
NOW READY 
Our Little Cuban Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
Our Little Eskimo Cousin 
Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little African Cousin 

Each volume illustrated with six full-page plates 
in tints, from drawings by L. J. Bridgman 
Cloth, i2mo, with decorative cover, per volume, 
50 cents net. (Postage, 6 cents additional) 

£ 

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY, 
New England Building, Boston 

























. 






































MANUEL 


* 4 

f Our Little Porto I 

j * 

| Rican Cousin f 

* 4 


B y 

Mary Hazelton Wade 


Illustrated by 

L. J. Bridgman 


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Boston 

L. C. Page & Company 

MDC C C C II 


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M$’. 

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THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
T'vo Copied Received 


JUN. 30 1902 


COPYRIGHT ENTRY 



i, ASS ^tXXa No. 


3L 


2 - 


COPY B. 


Copyright , iq03 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 


••• • *«•• 
« 9 c. e 

€ t tee e 
« o { t 

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Published, June, 1902 



Colonial IfJress 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 


Preface 


The beautiful island of Porto Rico lies, as 
you will see by looking at the map, near 
that great open doorway to North America 
and the United States which we call the Gulf 
of Mexico. Very near it looks, does it not? 

So the little cousin with whom we are going 
to become acquainted to-day is our near neigh- 
bour as well. To be sure, a schoolboy or girl 
from Massachusetts would have to travel a 
thousand miles or so to see his Porto Rican 
cousin ; and even a child from Florida 
could not say good morning to his Porto 
Rican neighbour unless he were to take a sail 
of several hundred miles. 

However, we, who are used to taking little 
excursions over the world (between the covers 


VI 


Preface 


of a book), so that we may learn to know our 
tiny Eskimo cousins who live near the icy 
pole, and our little African cousins south of 
the equator, as well as our Japanese cous- 
ins on the other side of the globe, think 
nothing of the distance between here and 
Porto Rico. We should expect to feel very 
much at home after we arrived there, espe- 
cially now that Porto Rico has become part of 
our own country. 

We shall find our Porto Rican cousins and 
neighbours, with their dark skins, black hair, 
and soft black eyes, somewhat different in ap- 
pearance, indeed, from ourselves ; and we 
shall not be able to understand what they say 
unless we have learned the Spanish language ; 
for, as we know, the parents or forefathers of 
our Porto Rican cousins came from Spain to 
Porto Rico, just as the parents and forefathers 
of most of us who speak English came from 
England. 


Preface 


Vll 


However, these are slight differences ; and 
the Spanish people, from whom our black- 
eyed Porto Rican cousin is descended, belong 
to the same branch of the great human family 
as we do, who are descended, most of us, from 
English people. That is, the Spanish people 
and their descendants, the Porto Ricans, be- 
long to the white race. Manuel is thus a 
nearer relative than the little black cousin, 
who belongs to the negro race ; or the little 
Japanese cousin, who belongs to the yellow 
or Mongolian race; or the little Indian 
cousin, who belongs to the red race; or the 
little Malayan cousin, who belongs to the 
brown race. So we shall welcome the Porto 
Rican neighbours near our doorway into our 
nation's family. They were already our cous- 
ins by descent ; they have become our adopted 
brothers in our nation. 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

I. Manuel .... 



PAGE 

9 

II. 

Dolores .... 



• 15 

III. 

Lessons .... 



21 

IV. 

Through the Woods 



. 28 

V. 

The Coffee -tree . 



• 35 

VI. 

Songs and Stories . 



. 40 

VII. 

A Cruel Sport . 



• 30 

VIII. 

Early Times 



• 56 

IX. 

The Caribs 



• 63 

X. 

A Seaside Picnic 



. 68 

XI. 

The Wonderful Cave 



. 78 

XII. 

The Hurricane 



. 87 

XIII. 

The New Baby . 



• 93 

XIV. 

The City .... 



. 98 


Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 






List of Illustrations 


PAGE 


Manuel . . . . 

“ A FOUNTAIN IS PLAYING IN THE 
THE PAVED YARD ” . 

Dolores 

“The homes of the workmen” . 

“ One is quite large, and is for 

SHAPE OF A FAN ” . 

A Street in San Juan 


Frontispiece 
CENTRE OF 
. . . 12 

17 
40 

MED IN THE 

• 73 

. . . IOI 




US' 




Porto Rican Cousin 

























* 


* 















* 


























































Our Little Porto Rican 
Cousin 


CHAPTER I. 

MANtJEL. 

It is a beautiful May day. The air is still, 
yet clear ; the sun is shining brightly, but it is 
not too warm for comfort. There is not a 
cloud in the sky. 

And yet lazy little Manuel lies curled up 
in his comfortable bed, sound asleep at eight 
o’clock in the morning. See ! A smile lights 
up his face. Perhaps he is dreaming of his 
newly adopted American brothers. 

Of the things he has read about, he longs 
to see a real New England snow-storm most 
of all. To built a snow fort, to make balls 


9 


io Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


of snow and have a mock battle, what fun it 
must be ! To slide down the icy hills, to ride 
over the snowy roads to the jingle of the 
sleigh-bells, — surely there is nothing in his 
island home to equal sport like that. And 
so in his dreams our little Manuel takes part 
in games he cannot play while awake, until 
they at last become quite real to him. 

But now the door opens, and old black 
Juana, Manuel’s nurse ever since he was born, 
comes softly into the dark room, bringing a 
tray in her hand. She steps toward a little 
stand beside the bed, and sets down the tray. 
Then she goes to the casement and opens 
wide the wooden shutter. The sunlight pours 
into the room, and Manuel slowly opens his 
big black eyes. 

“ Oh, it is you, mammy dear, is it ? ” he 
says, sleepily, and slowly stretches himself and 
sits up in bed. 

Juana brings a basin of fresh water and a 


Manuel 


1 1 

towel for the boy to bathe his hands and face, 
then draws the stand closer to his side and 
hands him a cup of steaming chocolate and a 
roll. What thick, rich chocolate it is, and 
what a dainty little roll ! This is all the boy 
ever cares to eat in the morning, for he is 
seldom hungry when first roused. His father 
and mother are having coffee in their own 
bedroom at the same time Manuel is drinking 
his chocolate. This is the way every one in 
the family takes the first meal of the day. 

Manuel is a creole. Many, many years 
ago his great-great-great (indeed I cannot tell 
you how many times great) grandfather left 
Spain and crossed the wide Atlantic Ocean. 
He came to this beautiful island of Porto 
Rico to live, and his children and grandchil- 
dren liked the place so well they never cared 
to go back to the mother country. Such 
people are called creoles ; that is, people 
born in the West Indies of European parents. 


12 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


They set out great plantations of tobacco and 
sugar and became very rich. 

Manuel’s father has many acres of their 
land still, but the fortune of the family has 
been slowly lost ; and, although there are 
many servants, and a large, comfortable home, 
there is not much money to spend. 

The house is at least a hundred years old. 
It is made of blocks of stone, built around 
the four sides of a square courtyard, where 
orange-trees and magnolias stand in immense 
pots. A fountain is playing in the centre of 
the paved yard and making soft music as the 
spray falls upon the stones. There is a large 
aquarium at one side, where Manuel’s mother 
cares for many beautiful fishes. 

Vines climb up over the wide verandas ; 
the stone work is nearly hidden by mosses 
which have made their home here ; and, over 
all, the tall, graceful trees of the tropics sway 
gently to and fro. 


Manuel 


13 


There are water-lemon and banana, cocoanut 
and tamarind trees growing close to the house, 
and underneath in the rose-bushes and acacias 
hundreds of brilliant humming-birds are glanc- 
ing in and out. 

At first thought, it may seem strange to us 
that there are no windows fitted with glass in 
this old mansion. Our window is an opening 
in the wall of a building to let in or keep out 
light and air, as needed. In Porto Rico, where 
it is summer all the time, people need to have 
all the air possible in the house ; they have no 
use for panes of glass such as we use. These 
are rarely seen anywhere in the island, but 
instead of them bars of iron are fastened across 
the casements, or else there are wooden shut- 
ters, as in Manuel’s home. The slats of these 
shutters can be set open as much as one likes, 
or closed tightly when the heavy rains come. 

When Manuel has finished drinking his 
chocolate, old Juana prepares a bath for him. 


14 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


She does not bring any soap, for his mother 
believes it spoils the skin ; but the bath is 
scented with Florida-water, and the sweet 
perfume fills the room. 

Manuel is soon dressed, for he wears only 
a little shirt and loose white trousers during 
the daytime at home. His feet are left bare, 
so he may be as cool as possible. 

What a handsome fellow he is now that he 
is wide awake ! He is a little smaller than his 
American brothers of his own age, but he is 
well-shaped and graceful. People say he looks 
very much like his beautiful mother. His 
black eyes are tender and loving, his hair is 
black, but fine and soft ; his skin is dark, yet 
clear ; and his teeth are even and white. Yes, 
he is not only good-looking, but kind and 
lovable, we feel sure. 


CHAPTER II. 


DOLORES. 

And now he goes from his room out into 
the courtyard, for the house is only one story 
high. His sister Dolores is there already, and 
runs to kiss him good morning. 

“ Oh, Dolores,’' says Manuel, “ do you 
think we have time before our lessons begin 
to go over to Salvador’s and see if he got those 
fireflies yet? He was to bring them to me 
last night.” 

“ It’s only nine o’clock now, we have an 
hour yet,” answers Dolores, in her sweet 
voice. “ I'm all ready, so let’s go.” 

Both children put on their broad white 
hats and take a shady path through the fields. 
They soon reach the huts of the coloured 
workmen, clustered together in a grove of 
*5 


1 6 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


pimento-trees. A “ pimento-walk ” such a 
grove is sometimes called, and it would be 
hard to find anything more beautiful. The 
trees are of nearly the same height, reaching 
up about thirty feet from the ground. The 
branches are covered with glossy green leaves. 
The berries are not yet ready to pick, but 
when they are still green the coloured boys on 
the place must climb the trees and break off 
the twigs ; they will throw them down to their 
sisters on the ground, who will pick off the 
berries and store them in bags for their master 
to send to the United States mainland. We 
call these berries “ allspice,” and after they 
have been dried we buy them under that name. 

The huts of the workmen are scarcely more 
than sheds with roofs of thatched palm leaves. 
Some have sides and doorways, while others 
are quite open. What do these poor people 
care for that in this land of summer? If they 
have plantains enough to satisfy their hunger. 



DOLORES 



























































































































Dolores 


17 


plenty of cigars to smoke, and hammocks of 
the bark of the palm-tree to swing in, they 
are happy and contented. 

Within the huts one can see a few earthen 
pots and gourds ; that is all that is needed in 
their simple housekeeping, whether they be- 
long to the black race or are “jibaros,” as the 
poor whites are called. And most of the 
people are poor in this beautiful land, although 
Mother Nature is so generous here in her gifts 
to men. 

But we must go back to Manuel and 
Dolores, who are quickly surrounded by a 
group of little children. They are of all 
colours : some black as jet, the whites of 
their eyes looking like windows ; others of 
shades running from dark brown to pale yellow. 
But they are all noisy, all happy, all talking 
at the same time, and all naked. 

As for Dolores, herself, the dainty little 
maiden wears only a cotton slip at her play. 


1 8 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


Many another white child on the island goes 
about her home with no clothing, and feels 
very comfortable, too. It is only when the 
children get to be nine or ten years old that 
their parents make them dress ; and that is a 
sad time for them, you may be sure. 

But Dolores lives in quite a grand way, you 
know, so she and Manuel were never allowed 
to go about naked since they were old enough 
to walk. 

But look ! one of the little black boys is 
handing something to Manuel. It is a net filled 
with the fireflies or beetles he wished to get. 

“ Come to the house to-night, Salvador,” 
says Manuel, as he takes his treasures, “ and 
I will pay you.” 

Now what do you suppose Manuel cares for 
these beetles ? They are not beautiful in the 
daytime. We would far rather watch those 
lovely green and blue butterflies flitting among 
the bushes. But Manuel is going to make 


Dolores 


l 9 


pets of them. He will put them in a little 
wicker cage, feed them with sugar, and they 
will grow quite tame. At night they will be 
more beautiful than any precious gems owned 
by his mother. 

Let us examine them. They are of a 
dull drab colour, except around the eyes and 
underneath, where there are rings or bands 
that glow brightly in the dark, giving forth red 
and green lights. They gleam like diamonds. 
Manuel can read by their light, should he 
choose to do so. The fireflies of Porto Rico 
are the largest and most brilliant in the whole 
world. 

After the children have finished their lessons 
to-day, perhaps they will take some calabashes 
and bore holes in them. Then when night 
comes they can put the beetles inside and 
play outdoors with them for lanterns. Some 
of the poor people in Porto Rico use no other 
light at night, except these little creatures. 


20 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


Manuel carries the net very carefully as he 
and his sister return to the house. He does 
not wish a single beetle to be injured or 
frightened. 

“ Mamma dear ! ” he calls as he sees his 
mother on the veranda, “ you shall wear the 
most beautiful one I have in your lace dress 
to-night.” 

What a strange idea this seems to us ! but 
the smiling lady in her white wrapper does not 
seem at all surprised. She often fastens the 
living gems under the thin net of her evening 
gown ; perhaps they will glisten on her shoul- 
ders, perhaps at her throat, or in her hair. 
She certainly could not wear more beautiful 
jewels than these. 

“ Thank you, my precious child,” she 
answers, “ you are very thoughtful ; but now 
your teacher is waiting for you in the school- 
room. Go to her, and give your studies good 
attention this morning.” 


CHAPTER III. 


LESSONS. 

Dolores and Manuel are soon busy with 
their lessons. Although Manuel is twelve 
years old and his sister ten, they are both 
learning to speak French and a little Italian. 
I fear you would think them rather backward 
in arithmetic and other grammar-school stud- 
ies, but their parents do not see the need 
of knowing as much of such things as do 
American fathers and mothers. 

The children have always had a governess, 
and have never been in a public schoolroom 
in their lives. In fact, these are only now 
becoming common since our people have taken 
Porto Rico under their care. Think of it, 
children ! In this beautiful island, only one 


21 


22 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


person out of five can read and write at pres- 
ent. Most of these have been brought up in 
the towns and cities. Those who live out 
in the country seldom have had a chance to 
go to school. If they were too poor to hire 
a governess or study with the nuns in the 
convents, they grew up ignorant indeed. 

Dolores is taught to embroider and to play 
a little on the guitar, so her mother thinks her 
daughter is quite accomplished. Besides, both 
Manuel and his sister are very graceful dan- 
cers and can sing well. These are quite 
important studies, for wherever one goes in 
Porto Rico, there he will find music and 
dancing. 

At half-past eleven the books are closed, 
and the children join their parents for the first 
regular meal of the day. This is the real 
breakfast. 

It is served in the large, low dining-room, 
where for the first time we see the children’s 


Lessons 


23 


grown-up sister, TereSa. She is a lovely 
young lady of sixteen, slight and graceful. 
She has the same black eyes as Manuel and 
Dolores, soft and beautiful. 

She wears no stockings, but her feet are 
encased in dainty blue kid slippers. They 
are embroidered with pearl beads, and, no 
doubt, came from Paris. 

An ugly-looking woman takes her place 
beside Teresa at the table. This is her 
“ duenna.” It is her duty to go everywhere 
with the young girl. It would not be consid- 
ered at all proper for Teresa to go driving, or 
even walking, alone. It would not do for her 
to go shopping to the town only three miles 
away unless her duenna were with her ; and as 
for a party or any evening entertainment what- 
ever, if Teresa were to go without her parents 
or this same duenna, every one in the country 
around would be terribly shocked. 

But now all are busy eating the breakfast 


24 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

the coloured waiter is serving. First, there is 
a nice omelet, cooked in olive oil. Then 
come pineapple jam, fish fried a delicate 
brown, fried bananas, fried chicken, and a 
salad made of many kinds of vegetables. We 
must not forget to mention the apricots stewed 
in honey, nor the tea steeped with the leaves 
of lemon verbena. It has a delicious odour, 
and Manuel’s father and mother are very fond 
of it. 

There is no butter to eat on the rolls, but 
the fact is, almost all the butter in Porto Rico 
comes in tin cans from other countries. On 
account of the hot climate, it is often rancid, 
so it is seldom used in Manuel’s home. The 
cooking is done with olive oil. Nearly every- 
thing is fried, instead of being broiled or 
roasted, and no one feels the need of butter. 

Manuel and Dolores, like some other boys 
and girls we know, are very fond of sweet 
things, so they eat a great deal of the cooked 


Lessons 


25 


fruits on the table. But they also seem to 
like the salad very much, even though it is 
so hot with Cayenne pepper as to burn the 
mouth of any one not used to it. But the 
children are accustomed to highly spiced 
dishes. Our cooking would seem tasteless 
to them. Perhaps it is the hot climate all 
the year round that makes it necessary to 
have strongly flavoured foods to excite the 
appetite. 

After this second breakfast is over, ciga- 
rettes are served, and, would you believe it ! 
our little Manuel, as well as his mother and 
older sister, joins in a smoke. Such is the 
custom of his country that even children of 
three or four years use tobacco. It is no 
wonder, then, that as the boys and girls grow 
up, they have so little strength. We are no 
longer surprised that Manuel does not care 
much for active play. 

It is now the hottest part of the day. The 


26 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


boy and his sister play a few games of domi- 
noes and cards out on the veranda, and then 
sleepily stretch themselves in hammocks under 
the palms for an afternoon nap. Manuel’s 
little dog, Ponce, lies on the ground by his 
side, ready to bark if any stranger should 
come near his master. 

But what do the poor children of Porto 
Rico do, while Manuel is taking his “ siesta,” 
as the afternoon nap is called ? They, too, 
are probably having their siestas, for all classes 
of people rest during the hottest part of the 
day. Very little business is done in the cities ; 
the time for work is in the early morning and 
late afternoon. 

The coloured children of the plantation 
would think it a perfect feast to have a break- 
fast like Manuel’s. A bit of salt fish, with 
some breadfruit, plantains, and coffee, — these 
satisfy their hunger day after day. But in the 
sugar season, when the canes are ripe and full 


Lessons 


27 


of juice, then indeed it is hard to make the 
people work, whether they are white or black. 
Oh, the delicious sugar-cane ! there is nothing 
like the pleasure of sucking it. Here and 
there, in every nook and corner, one sees boys 
and girls, men and women, with joints of the 
cane in their hands, sucking away for dear life. 
Then is the time to stop all worry and grow 
fat. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THROUGH THE WOODS. 

When Manuel and Dolores finish their 
siesta, it is nearly three o’clock. Old Juana 
appears on the veranda with a pitcher of lime- 
ade, made with fresh limes, and Manuel drinks 
glass after glass. It is very refreshing, and he 
begins to feel like moving about, so he orders 
his pet donkey to be brought. He says to 
Dolores : 

“ I think I will ride through the woods and 
around the plantation. I will take my gun, as 
we may see some rabbits. Please come with 
me, Dolores.” 

The little girl is always ready to oblige her 
brother, so she sends for her own donkey, and 
28 


Through the Woods 29 

the children start for the woods, with Ponce 
following close behind. 

Dear little patient, long-eared donkeys ! 
Just as slow and stupid and stubborn as other 
donkeys in other parts of the world. Manuel 
loves his Pedro, as he is called. Pedro has 
been his friend and companion ever since the 
boy was big enough to sit up straight. 

Pedro is not obliged to work very hard, and 
is now quite willing to set off on a gentle 
trot. 

Dolores holds a dainty little parasol over 
her head, but as they reach the deep shadow 
of the woods, she shuts it down ; then in some 
magical way changes it into a fan, with which 
she brushes away the mosquitoes. 

What beautiful woods these are ! Cocoanut, 
banana, sago, and palmetto trees grow here, as 
well as cedar, India-rubber, guava, and many 
other tall and stately trees belonging to the 
tropics. More than five hundred different 


30 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

kinds of trees are found on the one island of 
Porto Rico, every one of them growing over 
fifteen feet high. 

Just think of it, children ! Manuel can 
pick lemons, oranges, bananas, limes, plan- 
tains, peaches, apricots, olives, tamarinds, and 
— dear me ! I can’t tell you how many other 
fruits, without stepping off the land owned by 
his father. 

“ Listen ! ” says Dolores to her brother, 
“ don’t you hear that grinding, buzzing noise ? 
It sounds like some one grinding a knife. I 
wonder what it can be.” 

The children make the donkeys stop, and 
look all around them. No one is to be 
seen. Then turning their eyes up into the 
branches of a tree close by, they see a strange 
sight. It is a beetle at least six inches long. 
He is very busy sawing off a small branch. 

“ Oh, I know what that is,” says Manuel. 
“ Father has told me all about him. Some 


Through the Woods 


3i 


people call him a razor-grinder because he 
makes a noise like the grinding of a razor. 
He is the largest beetle in the world. So 
come along, Dolores, I want to shoot some 
pigeons.” 

“ Aren't you afraid, Manuel, to go any 
farther into the woods ? ” whispers his sister. 
“ I just heard a queer, rustling noise. Perhaps 
it is a wild dog. It may spring at us before 
we can get away.” 

The children of Porto Rico have more fear 
of wild dogs than of anything else. They 
imagine all kinds of terrible things about 
them, and whenever they come to a dark 
place in the woods, they begin to fear an 
attack. The fact is that dogs, as well as cats, 
often leave their homes and run wild on ac- 
count of the good times they can have in the 
woods. There are so many mice and birds to 
be caught that they need never go hungry, 
but there is little to fear from them. 


32 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

That is what Manuel thinks, sensible little 
fellow that he is, so he answers : 

“ Oh, pshaw, Dolores, you never yet saw 
a wild dog in your life. So come along; I’ll 
take care of you. You know I have my 
gun.” 

Just at this moment Manuel spies a brown 
object behind a rock. Look ! now a sharp- 
pointed nose is thrust straight up in the air, 
and a pair of bright eyes can be seen. 

“ That is a dear little agouti. Please don’t 
shoot him. See how shy he looks ; he is too 
scared to run. Oh, what a beautiful glossy 
coat he has ! ” says Dolores. “ I wish we had 
one to tame for a pet. Don’t you, Manuel ? ” 

At first thought, Manuel was going to 
shoot the agouti, but he quickly thinks better 
of it. Any one would indeed be hard-hearted 
to wish to kill such a pretty, timid little crea- 
ture. The agouti is a cousin of the hare and 
the rabbit, but lives in warmer lands than they. 


Through the Woods 


33 


The children ride slowly along. Manuel 
shoots a couple of pigeons, and they are about 
to turn out of the woods when they spy a big 
hole in the ground near them. The appear- 
ance of the earth shows that it must have 
been freshly dug. 

“ I know what that means,” exclaims Man- 
uel, “ an armadillo is hiding from us. He 
heard us coming and at once burrowed under 
ground. I don’t see how they can dig so 
fast. Do you ? Now let’s make our donkeys 
rest, and see if he will come out when all is 
quiet.” 

The children get off and tie their donkeys 
to some trees, while they themseves sit down 
at quite a little distance from the hole. 

It is not long before Mr. Armadillo appears, 
reaching his head out from his shell as he 
climbs. He does not come very far, however, 
before Ponce spies him. The dog begins to 
bark furiously, and tries to get away from 


34 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

Manuel, who holds him by his collar. The 
armadillo flees back into his hole cc as quick as 
a flash,” as the saying is, and does not make 
his appearance again, although the children 
wait quite a while longer. 

What a curious looking animal it is, with its 
shell of horny plates, and a white horn on its 
back through which it blows and makes a loud 
noise ! When in danger, it draws itself com- 
pletely within its shell. The flesh is a great 
dainty, but the little animal is hard to catch. 
The negroes on some of the West Indian 
islands belonging to England call the arma- 
dillo “ hog-in-armour.” Not a bad name, 
is it? 

Manuel and Dolores, still mounted on their 
patient little donkeys, leave the woods, and 
come out upon a path leading through their 
father’s coffee plantation. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE COFFEE -TREE. 

When the first white people came to Porto 
Rico they did not find any coffee among the 
other tropical fruits. To-day it is the most 
valuable product of the island, yet all the trees 
growing now came from a few plants brought 
here nearly two hundred years ago. Perhaps 
you would like to hear the story. 

In the year 1714, all the coffee used in the 
civilised world was under the control of the 
Dutch. They were very jealous of other 
people growing it, but one of the governors 
of Amsterdam gave a single plant to the King 
of France. From this plant a few others were 
raised and sent across the ocean to Martinique, 
an island of the West Indies belonging to 
France. 


35 


36 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

The voyage was long. The fresh water on 
board the ship nearly gave out, but the man 
who had the plants in his care shared his 
allowance with them. They were thus kept 
alive, and from them have come the coffee- 
trees that cover thousands of acres of land 
to-day in Porto Rico, Martinique, and the 
other islands. 

Manuel and Dolores delight in riding 
through the plantation at this season of the 
year ; the rows of small, evenly trimmed trees, 
with their glossy green leaves, are always a 
pretty sight. But just now they are more 
beautiful than at other times, for each tree is 
a mass of snow-white blossoms, filling the air 
with their fragrance. 

Dolores's mother hires some of the coloured 
children to collect petals of the coffee flowers 
as they drop upon the ground. She will fill 
jars with them to scent her drawing-room with 
their perfume ; but no one is allowed to pick 


The Coffee -Tree 


37 

the blossoms from the trees, for each flower 
means a berry later on in the season. 

As the fruit forms, it is first green, then 
a pale pink, and at last a bright red. Not 
all the berries ripen at the same time, as 
cherries do, so the autumn picking lasts sev- 
eral weeks. 

After they have been gathered, the berries 
are first washed and then hulled by machinery. 
Even then, however, they are not ready for 
market, for they must still be dried. At Man- 
uel’s home this is done by spreading them 
on floors paved with stones, where the sun 
can shine upon them ; but on larger plan- 
tations it is usually done by steam or hot 
air. 

The men and women who work for Man- 
uel’s father are always busy, for there are 
many things to do besides attending to the 
coffee-trees. These stand in rows about fif- 
teen feet apart, and between the rows there are 


38 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


“ catch crops,” as they are called. One can 
see sweet potatoes, pigeon pease, eddoes, and 
other vegetables. 

Coffee-trees are quite tender, and need a 
good deal of shade when they are young, so 
banana and plantain trees have been planted 
between the rows to protect them from the 
hot sun. 

Manuel’s father does not pay his workmen 
in money ; he gives them a certain number of 
plantains for each day’s labour. They keep 
enough of this fruit to feed their families, and 
sell the rest in the towns near by. 

The children stop for a chat with the over- 
seer, then ride onward to the house, for dinner 
must be ready. 

Just as the meal is over, and the family 
leave the dining-room, the convent bells begin 
to ring. It is six o’clock, the time for evening 
prayer, and all bow their heads in silence. 
Although Manuel is a little boy, he likes 


The Coffee -Tree 


39 


these quiet moments in the day. The air 
is filled with peace ; it seems as though he 
feels God’s love more fully than at any other 


time. 


CHAPTER VI. 


SONGS AND STORIES. 

Night falls suddenly on this beautiful 
home. There is no long twilight as in north- 
ern lands ; and soon the stars are shining, 
myriads of them. They do not twinkle, but 
give a strong, steady light. 

This is the best part of the day. The 
planter sits on the veranda, smoking ; his 
wife, in her delicate evening dress, keeps him 
company. Teresa plays some sweet tunes on 
her guitar and sings, while her duenna sits 
back in a rattan chair and dozes. Manuel 
and Dolores dance together along the garden 
paths or play with their fireflies. 

Hark ! listen to that lively music coming 
from the homes of the workmen. We know 


40 


Songs and Stories 


4i 


there are mandolins among the instruments 
they are playing, but what is that strange, 
swishing noise we hear, keeping time with the 
other instruments? It is somewhat like the 
sound of shuffling feet. It is made upon 
gourds notched in many places, with holes 
in the shape of triangles cut in the necks. 

A few nights ago Manuel and Dolores 
begged their father to take them over to the 
“ quarters,” as the cabins of the coloured farm 
labourers are called. Manuel said : 

“We want to see the sport. They have 
such good times over there when their work is 
done, and do tell such funny stories. But, 
after all, papa, it’s the way they tell them that 
I like best. Their black eyes are so solemn 
and look as though they believed every word 
that is said.” 

When the planter and his children drew 
near, they found the coloured people squatting 
in a big circle in front of one of the huts. 


42 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

The sun was just setting in a great round hall 
in the west. There was still light enough in 
the sky to show the shining dark faces ranged 
around. Two rows of glistening ivory teeth 
could be plainly seen in each face as the work- 
men jumped up to bow and smile before 
“ Massa, little Massa, and little Missus/’ 
They were quite proud to be honoured by a 
visit from these great people. And now the 
sun suddenly dropped below the horizon, and 
the air seemed filled with the darkness. 

It was the sign to begin, and the blacks, at 
a motion from their leader, started in with an 
old, old song not learned from books ; it had 
been handed down from the time when their 
people lived in their native land of Africa. It 
was a song about a beautiful star, and before it 
was ended Dolores and Manuel felt as if the 
star itself were a living friend and helper of 
these ignorant, earnest people. 

Sing ! The word does not begin to describe 


Songs and Stories 


43 


the music they not only heard but saw and 
felt. The voices of the singers were sweet 
and rich ; their bodies swayed back and forth, 
keeping perfect time. Their great round eyes 
rolled from side to side, and as they sang verse 
after verse, they seemed to forget their com- 
pany as well as themselves. Their faces shone 
with a smile of perfect happiness. 

When the song was ended a story was called 
for, and an old gray-haired man began to tell 
this tale of the elephant and the whale. 

“ Once upon a time an elephant was walk- 
ing on the shore. He saw a whale in the 
water. He spoke to the whale and said : 

“ £ Brother Whale, I can pull you up on to 
the shore.' 

Indeed you can’t,’ cried the whale. 

“ c I bet three thousand dollars that I can,’ 
the elephant answered. 

“ c All right, let me see you try,’ the whale 
said, quickly, and went away. 


44 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

“ Soon afterward they met again. The 
whale spoke this time, and said : 

“ c Brother Elephant, I can pull you into 
the sea.’ 

“ c What an idea ! ’ said the elephant. c No 
man in the world could pull me into the sea.’ 

“ Brother Rabbit heard the two talking, and 
said : 

“‘Til try it to-morrow at twelve o’clock/ 

“ He went away and got a piece of rope. 
He tied one end of it around the whale’s neck 
and the other around the elephant’s neck. 
Then he said : 

“ c When I speak the word you must both 
pull hard.’ 

“ Now when the whale pulled, he dragged 
the elephant into the sea. He said : 

ccc You, Brother Elephant, think the little 
rabbit is doing all this.’ 

“ Then the elephant pulled hard, and 
brought the whale into the surf. The whale 


Songs and Stories 


45 


caught underneath a shelf of rock and the 
elephant found himself fastened to a big tree. 

“ These two mightiest of creatures pulled 
and pulled, till at last the rope broke, and the 
elephant was jerked way back into the forest 
and the whale was jerked way out to sea. 
That is why you always see the whale in the 
ocean and the elephant in the woods.” 

There was a great clapping of hands when 
the tale was ended. After that, there were 
other songs and stories, while the faces of the 
people grew more earnest and eager after each 
one. 

It was growing late, and Manuel’s father 
said : 

“ Come, children, we must go now. Your 
mother will be watching for you. It is long 
past your bedtime.” 

As they walked homeward, Manuel was 
quiet for some time. Then he said : 

“ Father, what nonsense many of these 


46 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

stories are ! Yet I like them, too, because 
they seem to bring one so near all living 
things. Even the rabbit and the elephant are 
brothers to them. It’s a little odd, though, 
that in their animal stories they always make 
the rabbit the wisest.” 

Sometimes Manuel’s father walks over to 
the “ quarters ” with his boy to see the dan- 
cing. It is wild and exciting; it fairly makes 
Manuel dizzy to watch the people twist and 
turn themselves about. It is so different from 
the slow, graceful steps he and Dolores have 
been taught. 

One wonders if the children are not afraid 
of snakes in the long grass at night. No, for 
in all Porto Rico, it is said, a poisonous ser- 
pent has never been seen. In two other is- 
lands of the West Indies the most deadly 
snake of the Western world is found. This is 
the terrible fer-de-lance whose bite is so much 
dreaded ; but this serpent has never made its 


Songs and Stories 


47 


way into Porto Rico. It probably drifted on 
limbs of forest trees from South America to 
the other islands, but never reached Manuel’s 
home. The boy should be very grateful that 
it did not. 

But there are other things for him to fear. 
When he goes to bed to-night, he will get 
Juana to look under his bed and in every 
corner of the room before he can settle him- 
self to sleep. Is he afraid of burglars, do you 
suppose? He never thinks of them ; but he 
knows that scorpions and centipedes can creep 
into the house, and even into his bed, without 
being seen. And oh ! their sting means very 
great suffering. Manuel’s mother was once 
stung by a scorpion’s fiery tail, and the wound 
was very painful for a long time. 

It was only a few nights ago that Juana 
found a centipede snuggled away under a 
cushion in the sitting-room. Suppose some 
one had sat down upon it unawares and been 


48 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

bitten ! It makes the shivers creep up and 
down Manuel’s back to think of it. 

The word centipede, perhaps you know, 
means hundred-footed. These little insects 
travel quite rapidly, and although they do not 
cause death, they may make very painful 
wounds. 

There are other things, too, to trouble 
Manuel and Dolores, for mosquitoes and fleas 
are always plentiful, and sometimes the chil- 
dren are awakened at night by an attack from 
a small regiment of cruel little ants, and sleep 
no more till morning. 

There is a certain insect in the West Indies 
known as a “ chico,” “ chigoe,” or “jigger,” 
and woe to the toes of the person whom it 
visits. It gets under the skin, and there lays 
many eggs and prepares to make itself very 
much at home. So if any person’s toe begins 
to itch, he needs to have it examined at once, 
or there may be trouble. People have some- 



“ THE HOMES OF THE WORKMEN 






Songs and Stories 


49 


times been obliged to have the toe, and even 
the foot and leg, cut off on account of the in- 
flammation caused by a chico and her family. 

But the curious thing about it is that this 
insect seems to prefer the toes of white strangers, 
so that Manuel and Dolores, who were born 
on the island, are pretty safe in going bare- 
footed. 


CHAPTER VII. 


A CRUEL SPORT. 

To-morrow there will be “ lots of fun,” as 
Manuel says. After the morning service in 
the church (for it will be Sunday) his father will 
take him and Dolores to a cock-fight. Man- 
uel has been brought up to think there is no 
pleasure like it. 

When our government took charge of the 
island, after the war with Spain, they forbade 
any more cock-fighting. But all the people, 
black and white, loved the sport so dearly, and 
felt so bad on account of the new law, that it 
has been set aside for the present. 

Yes, Manuel, our gentle, kind-hearted little 
cousin, has seen many cock-fights. Sunday is 
the day his people take for the cruel pleasure. 

5 ° 


A Cruel Sport 


5i 


The boy’s father has a very handsome cock 
he has been training for to-morrow’s fight. 
He has bet quite a large sum on him, and is 
even more anxious than his little son for the 
next day to come. Why, this game-cock of 
his has been getting as much care and atten- 
tion as a fine horse or pony generally receives 
from a loving master ! 

And now it is Sunday. Not even a flea has 
disturbed Manuel’s dreams all night. Late in 
the afternoon a carriage comes to the door, and 
the planter drives away to the town with his 
two younger children. His wife and Teresa 
do not go, as it is not considered proper ; but 
it is thought to be all right for Manuel and 
Dolores, as it is the fashion of this country for 
boys and little girls to go. 

What a crowd there is around the entrance ! 
Men and children, both black and white, are 
jostling each other, talking loudly, and quar- 
relling together. See that man elbow his way 


52 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


along ! He has a cock under his arm, proba- 
bly a contribution to the entertainment. 

Manuel’s father beckons to a servant who 
has followed him on horseback with his pre- 
cious game-cock in charge, and together they 
pass inside. Every one must pay for admis- 
sion to the show. And what does one see 
within ? There is a large cleared space cov- 
ered with sawdust. This is for the cocks ; all 
around are seats for the people who look 
on. 

Over at one side of the pit a man is lifting 
the cocks, one by one, and weighing them to 
find their fighting weight. See the care with 
which each skinny fowl is tied in a bandanna 
and handled ; one would think it some- 
thing very precious. And, indeed, they are 
precious, and cost their owners many dol- 
lars. 

Look ! the men are fastening sharp knives 
to the spurs of the poor fowls, whose necks 


A Cruel Sport 53 

and backs are bare of feathers. These knives 
are sharper than the natural spurs, and will 
help to make the battle a deadly one. They 
are not always used, however. 

And now, in the midst of shouts and yells, 
the first battle begins. It means death to one 
or both of the birds. The two cocks enter 
into the fight as though they delight in it. 
See the feathers fly from their heads and 
sides ! 

Ah ! one of them is blinded by the dust. 
His owner rushes up and squirts alum water 
in his eyes. The fight goes on till one cock 
lies breathing his last on the ground, and the 
other stands beside him dizzy and tottering, 
yet hanging to him still. 

There is silence while the bets are paid ; 
then the noise begins again, and two more 
cocks are brought in. Battle after battle is 
fought till night falls upon the cruel 
sport. 


54 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

There is no doubt that these game-cocks 
enjoy fighting, yet this is no reason they 
should be pitted against each other by human 
beings ; nor that people should think it sport 
to watch suffering and bloodshed even among 
stupid fowls. 

It is hoped that Manuel and Dolores will 
learn better as they grow older. We cannot 
blame them now, for the customs of their 
country have made it seem quite right and 
proper. 

A still more cruel sport was brought by the 
Spaniards to Porto Rico, but it is now forbid- 
den by American law. This is bull-fighting. 
It is not long, however, since the finest ladies 
in the land dressed themselves in their hand- 
somest gowns, and with their husbands at- 
tended a bull-fight. You would have thought 
to see the rich jewels and fans, the fine silks 
and satins, that they were in a ballroom. 

Do not let us think of such sad things any 


A Cruel Sport 55 

longer, however. Those days are gone by 
for ever, let us hope. 

While Manuel and Dolores are giving their 
mother an exciting account of the Sunday’s 
pleasure, let us go back to the Porto Rico of 
long, long ago. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


EARLY TIMES. 

We find Columbus sailing into one of its 
harbours after his second trip across the great 
Atlantic Ocean. The trees and plants look 
very beautiful to him. But he notices other 
things ; he sees rivers flowing down into the 
sea, and the natives tell him of stores of gold 
to be found in the beds of these streams. For 
this reason he calls it “ Puerto Rico/’ or the 
“ Rich Port,” and so it has been called to this 
day. 

He and his men are full of interest in the 
strange sights around them. In the waters 
about Porto Rico are wonderful creatures they 
have never seen before. Among these is the 
manatee, which, rising up out of the water, 
56 


Early Times 57 

looks at a distance somewhat like a human 
being. 

“ It is a mermaid,” cries Columbus, cc but, 
alas ! it is not as beautiful as I expected.” He 
wrote of it in this way in the account of his 
voyage. 

In those days of long ago people had many 
queer ideas. One of these notions was that 
beings lived in the sea who had heads and 
arms like men and women, but the lower parts 
of their bodies were shaped like fishes. They 
were, therefore, half human and half fish. 
Their home was far down in cool groves at 
the bottom of the sea. A diver once said he 
had visited the very place. He found the 
water perfectly clear, and lighted up by crystal 
pyramids. There were gardens of beautiful 
sea-weeds, furniture all made of precious 
stones, and the strange beings dwelling there 
wore ornaments and combs of shining gold. 

They believed that these beings of the sea 


58 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

rose sometimes to the surface of the water. 
There they would sing sweet songs as they 
combed their long yellow hair. But they sang 
only to make the sailors forget their own 
homes and to lead them into harm. 

It was no wonder that Columbus was disap- 
pointed when he discovered the manatee, and 
believed he had at last seen the mermaids 
of whom he had read so many stories. The 
sea-cow is certainly not a beautiful creature. 
It looks somewhat like a small whale; it has 
a fat body, with small eyes and ears. It is 
very timid, and probably swam off as fast as it 
could when it found the vessels of Columbus 
near. Of course, the great sailor did not get 
a good view of it or he could not have be- 
lieved it to be the mermaid described in song 
and story. 

Not many years after Columbus discovered 
Porto Rico, Ponce de Leon led a company of 
Spaniards to its shores and settled there. The 


Early Times 


59 


Indian chief of the country was very kind to 
the strangers. He gave them provisions and 
rich presents, and showed them the fruits and 
vegetables which grew there. He shared his 
treasures with them, and, most important of 
all, he led them to a river where stores of gold 
could be found in its bed. 

Gold ! It filled the Spaniards' hearts with 
greed. This was what they had longed for; 
now they could go back to their own country 
with great fortunes. 

How did they return the kindness of the 
gentle, trusting natives ? By treating them 
like slaves ! By making them do the hardest 
labour, and then rewarding them with cruelties. 

When they first came to the shores of the 
island they had said to the Indians: “We are 
immortal ; we cannot die ; we will live on for 
ever." 

But when the poor Indians had suffered for 
a long time at their hands, and when many of 


6o Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


their kindred had died from the ill-treatment 
of the Spaniards, they said : 

“We will prove what these cruel strangers 
have told us.” 

They seized a Spanish soldier and held his 
head under water for two hours. Then they 
carried his body to the shore of the river, and 
sat down beside it for two whole days. But 
it showed no signs of life. At the end of that 
time they took the body to their chief, who 
said : 

“ They have deceived us, for this man has 
died, even as we would die.” 

You can easily imagine what followed. 
There was war between the natives and the 
strangers. But the poor Indians had little 
chance. They had only bows and arrows, 
rough spears of wood, and battle-axes of stone. 
The Spaniards were armed with swords and 
guns. Those Indians who were not killed 
were made prisoners and set to work in the 


Early Times 


61 


gold mines and sugar fields, where they rapidly 
died from their hard labour. 

Years passed by. Ponce de Leon was 
growing old. His hair was gray ; his face 
was wrinkled ; the top of his head was bald. 
He had many pains in his body and was often 
ill. 

Then he thought of the stories told by his 
Indian slaves of a wonderful fountain not far 
away. They declared that its waters were 
always fresh and pure ; not only this, but each 
draught that a person swallowed would make 
him younger and happier. 

“ Ah ! ” sighed the old man, “ I wish I 
might find this spring of living water, and rid 
myself of stiff joints and rheumatism. I will 
start out in search of it at once. If I can only 
reach it, I shall become young and handsome 
again, and shall never die.” 

This was the reason the conqueror of Porto 
Rico sailed away to find the wonderful Foun- 


62 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


tain of Eternal Youth of which the Indians 
had told him. 

You probably know the story of the coming 
of Ponce de Leon to Florida one beautiful 
Easter Sunday, which in the Spanish language 
is called Pascua Florida . So he called the 
country Florida, saying : 

“ In this beautiful land must be the won- 
drous fountain.” 

Soon afterward, while searching for it, he 
was shot with a poisoned arrow, and died on 
the voyage back to the island. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE CARIBS. 

The Indians whom Ponce de Leon and his 
followers treated so unkindly were gentle and 
generous, as I have said. They were not 
eager for war, like many of the tribes on the 
continent, nor savage in their habits. They 
wore short girdles of cotton cloth, raised crops 
of corn and manioc, and built large canoes in 
which they took quite long voyages. They 
wrought the gold found in the streams into 
ornaments. 

This tribe of Indians was very numerous 
at the time the Spaniards first came to the 
West Indies, but now there is not a single 
trace of them left. War with the Spaniards, 

63 


64 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

hard work for their masters in the mines and 
fields, — these made the race die out rapidly. 

It is sad to think that the Spaniards tor- 
tured them also. 

Is it any wonder that the natives did not 
care to share the Spaniards’ heaven, but died 
hating them with all their hearts ? 

Long before Ponce de Leon came to Porto 
Rico, the poor Indians were attacked from 
time to time by other enemies ; but although 
they suffered much, they were never con- 
quered. These enemies were the Caribs, who 
seemed to love war better than anything else 
in the world. 

Sometimes the people would be strolling 
along the shores of the island when they 
would see something out on the ocean which 
looked like a mass of floating palm leaves. 
That did not frighten them, of course, and 
they would go on with their sports. 

When it was too late to give the alarm, they 


The Caribs 


65 


discovered that the mass of palm leaves was 
the covering of a boat-load of fierce warriors 
who were all ready to attack them. 

Or perhaps their foes would hide them- 
selves from sight in some other clever way 
until they were all ready to spring out of their 
boats and take the peaceful islanders by sur- 
prise. 

You wonder, perhaps, where was the Caribs* 
home. They told legends of a far-distant 
land in the north, from which their own 
people had come. They had fought their way 
from Florida to South America, and feared no 
one in the world. They believed that their 
tribe had grown up out of the stones which 
had been planted in the soil. 

They belonged to the great Indian, or red, 
race, as did the natives of Porto Rico, but 
their customs and natures were very different. 
They painted their faces to make themselves 
look as fierce as they felt. They were trained 


66 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


to fight from the time when they were little 
children. They loved to sail upon the ocean, 
and guided their boats by studying the stars. 

When the Spaniards had settled in Porto 
Rico, the Caribs thought it would be an easy 
thing to master them in fight, and trouble 
them as they had troubled the poor natives. 
But the white men were a match for them, 
and, when they landed on the shores of the 
island, the Spaniards entrapped them and 
drove them over the side of a cliff down into 
the water below. Not one Carib lived to tell 
the story of that fearful day. 

Time passed by and many workers were 
needed, and as the natives became fewer the 
Spaniards sent ships to the coast of Africa and 
brought away the black people to be their 
slaves. To-day the negroes are all free and 
seem to be happy in their island home ; but 
most of them are very, very poor, as are the 
greater part of the whites of Porto Rico. The 


The Caribs 


67 


rule of Spain has kept them so ; and it 
a glorious thing for these people when 
soldiers, under General Miles, marched 
triumph through the land. 


was 

our 

in 


CHAPTER X. 

A SEASIDE PICNIC. 

Several weeks have passed since Manuel 
and Dolores went with their father to the 
cock-fight. It is a beautiful June evening, 
and the children are walking through the gar- 
den, planning a picnic at the seashore for 
to-morrow. Their mother comes out hastily 
on the veranda, and calls : 

“ Manuel ! Dolores ! come in at once out 
of the moonlight ! You know well enough 
that animals will never lie with the moon 
shining upon them ; they are too wise. Oh, 
the evil I have seen that has come from the 
moon ! Don’t you remember poor little 
Sancho ? He is feeble-minded because his 
$8 


A Seaside Picnic 


69 


careless nurse let him sleep in the moonlight 
when he was a baby. Come quickly, my 
darlings, to the shade of the veranda.” 

Manuel and Dolores are a little frightened, 
and hurry toward the house, where they join the 
family in Spanish songs before going to rest. 

When Juana wakes them, early the next 
morning, they hear the rain falling in torrents 
outside. That will not prevent the picnic, 
however, for they feel sure it will not last long. 
It is the beginning of the spring rains, and 
there are showers every day, but they seldom 
continue more than an hour. But, oh, how 
the rain falls when it does come ! It seems as 
though the heavens opened and all the water 
in the sky fell at once. 

By eight o’clock the shower is over, and 
Teresa, her duenna, Manuel, and Dolores are 
ready to start. The planter must be busy 
to-day, and his wife does not care to go. 

A low, comfortable carriage is drawn up in 


70 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

front, the lunch is packed away under the 
seats, and the coachman is told to start. 
Ponce tries to follow, but Manuel orders him 
back. They will drive at least ten miles, but 
the roads are fine, it is down-hill all the way, 
and the views are beautiful. 

The party soon cross a bridge over a little 
stream. There they see two women standing 
nearly knee-deep in the water. They are 
washing clothes and having a sociable chat 
at the same time. Two large, flat stones 
serve as scrubbing boards, and each one of 
the women holds a club in her hands. 

“ What is that for?” one asks. To beat 
the dirt out of the clothes ! The garments 
are spread on the stones, rubbed with some 
native berries (instead of soap), then pounded 
with the clubs. Not a delicate way to handle 
fine linen, to be sure ; but the women seem to 
enjoy their work, and stop every few minutes 
to sit on the banks and smoke their pipes. 


A Seaside Picnic 


7i 


When the party have nearly reached the 
seashore, the road leads through thick woods. 
Suddenly they hear a great scuttling among 
the trees. The driver stops his horses, and 
every one looks to see what is the matter. 

It is nothing more nor less than an army of 
land-crabs on their yearly journey from the 
mountains to the sea. The children have 
often found one of them in the garden or the 
woods near the house, but such a number as 
this, they have never seen or heard before. 

These land-crabs can fight, and can frighten 
the horses greatly, if they should choose to 
take the road. So Pedro very wisely uses the 
whip, and the party soon leave this queer army 
behind them. The crabs make a dainty dish 
when served with lime-juice and Cayenne pep- 
per, and Manuel and Dolores are very fond 
of them served in this way. 

A turn in the road brings the ocean in view. 
Dolores claps her hands in delight, and cries : 


72 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

“ Oh, what a lovely time we will have ! I 
wonder who will find the most curiosities, 
Manuel, you or I.” 

Even the sober-faced duenna looks pleased 
as they drive out upon a smooth beach. How 
beautiful the ocean looks to-day! It is such 
a wonderful blue ; much like the colour of the 
sapphire, and not at all like the waters of 
the northern seas. 

The children take little baskets on their 
arms and trot about barefooted to see what 
they can find. It is a perfect paradise among 
beaches. Their American brothers and sisters 
would dance for joy at the sight of so many 
kinds of beautiful shells. And the starfish ! 
Manuel finds one big fellow as much as ten 
inches across. It is not flat like those seen 
in the temperate zone, but at least six inches 
through the middle of his horny body. The 
little boy cannot get him off* the rock to which 
he has fastened, but Pedro comes, and even he 



“ ONE IS QUITE LARGE, AND IS FORMED IN THE SHAPE OF 


A FAN 



































































« 


















. 

































































































































A Seaside Picnic 


73 


has to use all his strength to pull him away. 
A New York merchant is to visit the chil- 
dren’s father very soon, and Manuel wants 
to send this starfish to his little son. 

But there are other kinds of starfish here 
that are pretty and delicate. Dolores finds a 
dear little daisy-star only half an inch across, 
with fringes on its sides, and, a moment after, 
her sister picks up a fern-star. 

What delights the children most of all are 
the bits of coral washed up by the waves. 
Some of the pieces are red, some black, and 
others white. One is quite large, and is 
formed in the shape of a fan, while another 
spray looks like a mushroom. 

After luncheon is over, Manuel says : 

“ Dolores, let’s try to find some sea-anem- 
ones. Do you see that rocky cliff at the 
end of the beach ? Perhaps if we go there 
we can see some.” 

The children start off once more, and soon 


74 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

are climbing up over the rock. They creep 
along till they are able to look over its edge 
as it juts out over the water. 

What a wonderful sight meets their eyes ! 
It is the flower garden of the sea. Deep down 
under the clear waters they see many things 
living and growing that look for all the world 
like roses and marigolds, pinks and buttercups. 
What wonderful colours they have ! Coral is 
indeed beautiful, but it cannot compare with 
the sea-anemones. 

Manuel and his sister fairly hold their 
breath with delight. 

“ Oh, Dolores, isn’t it strange that those 
lovely things are animals and not plants ! 
There they stay in one place for ever, yet 
they are alive like the coral polyps. We 
must get Teresa to come and see them, too. 
She never saw them growing ; I’ve heard her 
say so.” 

Manuel whispers these words as though he 


A Seaside Picnic 


75 


fears the anemones may hear him and hide 
themselves from his sight. Dolores answers, 
in her soft voice : 

“ Manuel, did you ever think about what 
our teacher told us, that the bottom of the 
ocean is like the land, with hills and valleys, 
mountains and caves ? Many kinds of crea- 
tures live there, just as other kinds live on the 
earth ; but it seems to me that the coral polyps 
and the sea-anemones are the strangest of 
all.” 

When the children get back to the others, 
they beg Alfonso to get a boat and row them 
around to where the anemones are growing. 
Perhaps they can reach some of them. But 
he tells them that their father has forbidden 
him to take them out on the water, for the 
terrible blue shark dares to come quite close 
to the shore, and, even in a row-boat, they 
could not be sure of safety if a shark should 
follow them. 


76 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

He then tells them of adventures with 
sharks by people living near their own home. 

After these stories Manuel and Dolores are 
quite willing to give up a row after anemones, 
nor do they care to go in bathing, even close 
to the shore. 

The time comes all too soon to go home, 
and all enjoy the ride in the cool evening air. 
They have not travelled far before the moon 
rises and sends its light down through the 
tree-tops. 

Dolores happens to be looking out of the 
carriage, when she sees an ugly-looking animal 
peering out from behind a bush. It is an 
iguana, with jaws and mouth like an alligator. 
He looks fierce enough to devour any one, 
but Alfonso assures the party that he is really 
a very timid creature, and will not fight unless 
he is cornered and cannot get away. He likes 
to live quietly by himself in the trees and 
bushes, and no doubt is afraid of the horses, 


A Seaside Picnic 


77 


After awhile the children grow sleepy and 
doze in each other’s arms till home is reached. 
Their father and mother are watching, and the 
dinner has been kept waiting until they should 


arrive. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE WONDERFUL CAVE. 

They have so much to tell, it seems as 
though they had been gone a week. Their 
mother is most interested in hearing about the 
anemones, while their father wishes he could 
have been with them when they saw the land- 
crabs. 

“ It makes me think,” says he, “ of a won- 
derful trip I made when I was quite a young 
man. I met land-crabs that day in a much 
stranger place than you ever saw them, Man- 
uel. Did I ever tell you children about my 
visit to the c Great Caves ’ ? ” 

Manuel and Dolores draw close to their 
father’s side and exclaim together : 

78 


The Wonderful Cave 


79 

“ Why, no, papa. Oh, do tell us, please. I 
never even heard of them.” 

The planter smiles and answers : “ It is not 
strange, my dears, for there are people liv- 
ing within a much shorter distance of these 
caves who have never heard of them, as well 
as yourselves. It is, indeed, odd ; but you 
will yet see the day when travellers from dis- 
tant lands will visit our island for the sake of 
seeing the wonderful things hidden away in 
those very caverns. 

“ When I was younger, I was always look- 
ing for adventures. My father was a rich 
man, and I was allowed to do very much as I 
liked. So when some friends of mine asked 
me to join them in a trip to the caves, I 
was much pleased. They told me the ride 
would be tiresome and perhaps dangerous, 
but I liked the idea far better for that very 
reason. 

“ We started out early one morning. Two 


8o Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


guides went with us. They were men who 
had been in the caves many times. They 
knew the best way to reach them. We carried 
coils of rope and a roll of pitch lights, as well 
as a good luncheon. 

“ If we could have gone straight up the side 
of the mountain, it would have been a short 
trip ; but the trail led up and down, in and 
out. Now we had to climb a narrow ridge, 
and then descend again into a valley. One of 
these ridges was so steep that I had to hold on 
to the pommel of the saddle with all my might. 
I shut my eyes at the same time. I feared I 
would grow dizzy and slip from the back of 
the horse down the side of the precipice. 

“ But this was for only a short distance. 
Most of the road was very beautiful and lined 
with fruit-trees. Sometimes we could have 
picked great ripe oranges without dismount- 
ing; in many a narrow pass the clusters of 
bananas hung down so near us we had to bend 


The Wonderful Cave 


81 


our heads to keep from being knocked from 
the saddles. 

cc At last we had climbed so high we found 
ourselves with mountain tops on every side. 
Far below lay an immense coffee plantation. 
We could see the great drying-pans near the 
buildings. Only a short distance ahead of us 
was a white cliff of limestone. Here lay the 
caves we had come to visit. 

“We tied our horses to some trees, and 
crept, hand and foot, up through a narrow 
gorge. Its sides were walls of rock, and its 
roof was made of vines, ferns, and overhanging 
fruit-trees. How sweet and cool the air seemed ! 

“Yes, straight in front of us we could just 
see two great black holes. These were the 
doorways of the caves. And now the guides 
handed each one of us a lighted torch. The 
burning gum made a sweet incense as it sput- 
tered. It gave the only light we should have 
for many hours. 


82 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


“ The guides slowly led the way into the 
dark cavern ahead. The floor was wet and 
muddy, and we had to take care not to slip. 

“ Ugh ! there were numbers of great black 
spiders here. Their bite might be poisonous, 
and we took care not to lay our hands against 
the walls where they travelled up and down. 
The place was damp and slippery. There 
was certainly nothing beautiful to be seen yet. 

“ Hark ! There was a rustling sound over 
our heads. It grew louder and louder, until 
we could not hear each others voices. As we 
looked up into the darkness, we could see we 
had startled an army of bats. There were 
thousands of them. Yes, surely, many thou- 
sands. You wouldn't have enjoyed their fly- 
ing around you one bit, Manuel, good little 
huntsman even as you are. And as for you, 
my precious Dolores, I fear you would have 
screamed and begged to be taken home. 

“ Over our heads we could hear the sound 


The Wonderful Cave 


83 


of running water all the time. We kept 
bravely on. It began to grow lighter, and we 
could see several openings in front of us. 
Choosing one of these, we crept through a 
narrow passage and found ourselves at once in 
a vast hall. It was like Aladdin’s palace, 
which, you remember, was brilliant with beau- 
tiful gems. 

“ I looked up to the high roof and saw 
hundreds of sparkling white pendants. Some 
of them were quite smalt, but others reached 
down so far that I could touch them. They 
shone like the finest marble. They were 
made by the water trickling through the roof 
and leaving particles of lime as it slowly made 
its way downward. Such pendants are called 
stalactites. Some of them were tinted a beau- 
tiful blue or green. This was because the 
water had passed through some mineral sub- 
stance of those colours. 

“ And the walls of that hall ! Sparkling 


84 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

white columns reached from the floor to the 
very dome. They were fluted and worked in 
the most delicate patterns. I can never forget 
that wonderful picture. 

“ But what ugly creatures made their home 
in this wonderful palace of Mother Nature? 
They were land-crabs, to be sure, that tried to 
get out of our way as fast as their clumsy feet 
would permit. It was your story of the crabs, 
Manuel, that made me think of that day’s 
tramp. 

“You can hardly believe it, children, but 
we passed from one such hall to another until 
we had travelled at least a mile underground. 
Here and there were dark holes leading farther 
down yet. We could look over the edge 
sometimes and see other great hallways di- 
rectly under where we were. The guides 
said : 

“ c No, no, you must not try to reach them. 
You may never get back.’ 


The Wonderful Cave 


85 


“ But I insisted on going into one, at least. 
A stout rope was fastened about my waist ; 
two men held it tightly, and gradually let 
me go. Down I went, down, down, down. 
Would I never reach the bottom ? I was 
growing a little scared, when I found myself 
on the floor of another great hall, much like 
the one above it. I groped about and re- 
lighted my torch, which had gone out as I was 
lowered through the damp air. 

“ I found myself beside a stream of running 
water. It was flowing right by the doorway 
into the cave. I had heard there was just 
such an entrance as this, — that down on the 
side of the mountain a person could get into 
the cavern by first passing through the water. 

“ I had read a legend of this very place. It 
was about a young girl who had hidden her- 
self from her enemies by swimming into the 
cave through the secret entrance below the 
surface of the river. 


86 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


“ By this time my friends were getting wor- 
ried about me. I felt a gentle pull at the 
rope and I heard them calling. Their voices 
seemed strange and far away. And now I was 
slowly lifted upward to find myself in the 
midst of my friends. 

“ It was time to turn again toward the day- 
light. We said good-bye to the cave and its 
city of palaces. In another hour we were 
again in open air, looking at mountain tops. 
We asked ourselves if the day's wonderful 
sights really had been a dream or not." 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE HURRICANE. 

Weeks pass by; it is August, and the midst 
of the rainy season. This is the time to be 
ready for hurricanes. No one feels safe, for 
at any moment he may be taken by surprise, 
and his home, with its massive stone walls, 
may be dashed to the ground. 

Such a thing never yet has happened to 
Manuel’s family, but that does not keep fear 
away. Does not Manuel remember the story 
of Josephine, afterward the beautiful wife of 
Napoleon ? She spent her young days on an 
island not far from Porto Rico. In a few 
hours the plantation on which she lived was 
wrecked by a hurricane and hardly a trace of 
her home was left. It is fearful to think of 
87 


88 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


what she and her family suffered, but Manuel 
and Dolores cannot keep the story out of 
their minds when the midsummer storms arrive. 

They are kept in terror at least three 
months of the year, for the hurricane season 
begins the latter part of July, and the great 
winds may come at any moment from that 
time on to the end of October. 

If the children should visit the shore now, 
they would find all the boats drawn up high 
and dry in sheltered nooks. The fishermen 
are afraid to venture out to any distance for 
fear of sudden danger. 

This very morning Manuel's father looked 
at the barometer before he left the house, for 
that is the first thing to tell him a storm is 
approaching. Then he directed Alfonso to 
see if the iron bars were in good order for 
fastening the casements ; everything must be 
in readiness for a sudden departure. 

After his ride around the plantation, he 


The Hurricane 


89 


stopped at the hill-cave, or hurricane house, 
and directed one of the workmen to leave the 
door open for awhile, to air it. 

This cave was dug out of the side of a hill 
near the house when Manuel and Dolores were 
still babies. It is lined with a thick wall of 
stones ; it has no windows or other opening 
except a low, narrow doorway. At the first 
sign of a hurricane, the whole family flee to 
this cave, and stay there till the storm is over. 

Look ! the sky is overcast. And now it 
has become the colour of lead. How sultry 
it is ! Not a leaf moves, except when a sudden 
gust of wind takes it by surprise. The ba- 
rometer is falling rapidly. See the lightning 
flashing over the sky, with no sound of thun- 
der to follow it. 

Dolores begins to tremble and cry. Even 
her mother grows pale, and often crosses her- 
self in silent prayer. The planter moves quickly 
around, giving orders to the overseer about the 


90 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

workmen and the cattle. Stout-hearted little 
Manuel is very busy. He must not let 
Dolores think he is afraid. No, not for any- 
thing ! He helps Alfonso carry the food and 
cushions out to the hurricane house, while the 
doors and shutters of the mansion are being 
locked and barred. 

There is no time to be lost. A man has 
just ridden by, telling of the strange appear- 
ance of the ocean. 

“ It was perfectly still,” he said, “ but far 
out on the water long, quiet, sweeping waves 
rolled in toward the shore, then broke sud- 
denly at a fearful height close to land.” 

And now all hasten out to the cave. There 
is no laughing ; every one is still and sober. 
The door is shut and made fast. It is as dark 
as a tomb within. The air is heavy. But no 
one thinks of fretting ; all are too busy listen- 
ing to the howling of the wind and the noise 
of falling trees. 


The Hurricane 


9i 


The planter steadily watches the barometer 
by the dim light of a lantern. Manuel and 
Dolores cling to their mother, one on each 
side. Teresa strives to appear calm, and her 
duenna is the only one who tries to talk. 

Hours upon hours pass by. Ah ! what 
does that trembling of the ground mean? It 
makes one feel dizzy and strange. It is the 
shock of a slight earthquake. It is over now, 
and at the same time it becomes quiet outside. 
Papa once more looks at the barometer, and 
says it is rising, and it will soon be safe to 
venture out. 

When the door is opened, and they feel the 
fresh air on their faces once more, they look 
out on the darkness of night. But the stars 
are shining with their usual brightness, and the 
air is filled with peace and quiet. 

Was it all a dream ? Oh, no ! for broken 
trees and branches bar the pathway to the 
house, while pools of water are everywhere 


92 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


about. The dear old home is safe except that 
a part of the veranda has been torn away. 

The sunlight next morning shows that many 
of the roofs at the quarters have been blown 
off, while much damage was done to the coffee- 
trees. No human being or animal on the place 
has been injured, and all give thanks that the 
hurricane has passed. 

“ Let us hope,” says Manuel’s father, “ we 
shall not see another such storm this year. 
One bad storm is quite enough for a season, 
I am sure.” 

The time of danger passes by, and although 
there are many severe storms, not one of them 
is so bad that the family are obliged to hide 
themselves in the hill-cave. The autumn rains 
are very heavy, and Manuel and Dolores spend 
much time in the house or on the verandas. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE NEW BABY. 

November comes, and early one morning 
Juana enters the children’s rooms very much 
excited. She wakes them with the news that 
a little sister was born to them last night. 

“ A baby ! a dear, darling little baby in the 
house ! ” cries Dolores. “ Oh ! I have begged 
mother for one so often ! Now we shall al- 
ways have something to amuse us. Manuel, 
aren’t you glad ? ” 

The children do not care for chocolate and 
rolls in bed this morning ; that is certain. 
They must see the precious baby as soon as 
possible. 

It is such a dear little mite. It fills all 
hearts with joy. But it must be christened 


93 


94 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

without delay. Who shall be godfather ? 
The planter and his wife consider very care- 
fully. At last they decide to ask a great friend 
of theirs, who is the owner of a sugar planta- 
tion not far from them. He is very wealthy, 
and will no doubt celebrate the christening in 
grand style. 

In the next place, what shall be the baby’s 
name ? Of course, she must be called <c Maria” 
to begin with. Every girl-baby is named 
Maria, and if there are no girls in the family, 
the boy receives that name as his first. I sup- 
pose the name is in honour of Mary, the 
mother of Jesus. 

But what others must be added ? Manuel 
suggests Christina, while Dolores begs that her 
baby sister be called Lucia. At length it is 
decided that this tiny tot shall bear the digni- 
fied name of Maria Francesca Christina Lucia, 
and every one is pleased. 

When the baby is just one week old, the 


The New Baby 


95 


christening takes place. Several beautiful car- 
riages drive up to the house, and the friends 
and relatives take their places inside. The 
godfather is a fine-looking gentleman with 
piercing black eyes and black moustache. He 
has made Manuel and Dolores happy by pre- 
senting each of them with a gold piece strung 
on a ribbon. He has also given each one of 
the house servants a piece of silver. 

The children are dressed in white and look 
very pretty. The baby wears a beautiful robe, 
embroidered by the nuns. As she lies sleep- 
ing in her nurse’s arms, she does not dream 
that this celebration is all in her honour. 

The christening party drives away to the 
church, while the mother lies in her chamber, 
quietly resting. She is not well enough to go 
with them. 

After the service is over, the godfather in- 
vites the guests to attend a dinner party in 
honour of his little godchild, at his own home ; 


96 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 

but the baby must now go back to her loving 
mother. She could scarcely appreciate the 
feast, and is much safer at home. So the 
nurse is driven off in one of the carriages with 
her precious charge, while the rest of the party 
go to the godfather’s beautiful house. 

Such a feast as is spread before them ! Such 
a display of silver and china ! What a richly 
embroidered table cover ! Course after course 
is served. 

First there is a rich soup, followed by fried 
chicken and rice coloured with tomato ; there 
are salads, stews of game, fruits hot and cold, 
a dainty dessert, cheese and coffee. 

Soon after the feast is over, the children re- 
turn home, for their dear mother must not get 
lonesome. 

The baby grows rapidly, and when she is 
two months old the planter proposes to take 
the whole family to San Juan, the capital of 
the island. Teresa is perhaps more joyful than 


The New Baby 


97 


any one else, for now she will have a chance to 
wear some lovely new dresses at the evening 
parties she will attend there. 

Manuel and Dolores are most pleased be- 
cause they are to travel in a sailing vessel. 
They will, at last, have a chance to see live 
sharks as well as other strange creatures of the 
sea, of which they have heard. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE CITY. 

It is a delightful trip. The weather is just 
cool enough for comfort, and no one is sea- 
sick. The children are never tired of sitting 
on deck and watching the views, changing hour 
by hour. 

They are never out of sight of land, but 
sail along the shores of their loved island. 
Here is a little village of palm-thatched huts, 
there a grove of breadfruit or cocoanut trees ; 
again one meets another sailing vessel with all 
its men busy shark-fishing. The skin of the 
ugly monster is valuable, as well as its fins and 
tail, which are prized as food by many of the 
people of Porto Rico. 

Looking down beneath the clear blue waters 
Dolores descries the rainbow fish and claps her 

98 - * • 


The City 99 

hands at its beauty. It is so called because 
of its many beautiful colours. 

And see ! Here is a shoal of flying-fish 
darting over the waters. They do not really 
fly, as some people think, but dart up out of 
the water, with their long fins spread in such 
a way that they are carried through the air for 
quite a distance. 

Deep down in the water the children see 
a beautiful object. It is moving rapidly, and 
its back shines like burnished gold, then 
changes in the sunlight into many shades and 
tints of colour. 

“ Papa, do please come quickly, and tell me 
what this is,” calls Manuel. 

“ That is a dolphin, my dear, one of the 
most beautiful of all creatures living in the 
sea,” says his father, as he looks over the 
ship’s side. “ But he is always hungry, and 
if he sees those flying-fish ahead of him it will 
be a sad day for them.” 

L. of C. 


ioo Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


At this very moment the dolphin seems to 
get a view of his favourite prey. He darts 
to the surface of the water and leaps forward 
at the flying-fish with the speed of a bullet; 
at least it seems so to the watching children, 
who pity the little fellows with all their hearts. 
When they discover their foe it is too late for 
them to escape, for, although they flee with 
all their might, now in one direction, then in 
another, the dolphin gains upon them and 
snaps them up one by one in his great jaws. 
In their fright many of them throw themselves 
clear out of the water with their fins spread, 
and are carried many feet on the air. It is 
this that gives them the appearance of flying. 

The voyage seems only too short to Man- 
uel and Dolores. When they arrive at San 
Juan there are so many new things to see that 
the days pass only too quickly. They have 
never been in the city before. 

The narrow streets, with the still narrower 



A STREET IN SAN JUAN 






The City ioi 

sidewalks, seem odd indeed to these children 
used to plantation life. Sometimes they can- 
not even walk side by side without one being 
pushed into the street. And the houses, 
although many of them are built of stone like 
their own, are so close together that Manuel 
says to his sister : 

“ I wonder how people can like being so 
crowded together. I should think they would 
feel choked.” 

The friends whom they visit live on the 
upper floor of their house. Although they 
are quite wealthy, they let the lower floor to 
a poor, dirty, and ignorant family with many 
children. Such an arrangement is often made 
in San Juan ; but the two families do not 
mingle at all, although living in the same 
house. 

Balconies jut out from the upper story, and 
Manuel and Dolores like to sit here and 
watch the passers-by. 


102 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


It is so odd to see the milkman ride up to 
the house astride of his donkey, with his milk 
cans jostling against each other between his 
legs. Sometimes a cow is led through the 
streets, and her owner stops at neighbouring 
doorways to draw the milk as the people wish. 
Dolores thinks the milk must be much nicer 
when obtained in this way. 

“ But look, now, Manuel,” she says, “ at 
that poor mule ! He is almost smothered 
under an immense bundle of fodder; and, as 
though that were not enough for the poor 
beastie, his master is riding on top of the load.” 

Sometimes the children rise as early as five 
o’clock in the morning. They like to go to 
the market held in a public square of the city. 
They see people of all shades of colour selling 
their goods. 

There is the baker with his bags of freshly 
baked bread and oddly twisted rolls ; there is 
the poultry man with wicker cages full of live 


The City 


103 


fowls hanging to the sides of his half-starved 
donkey ; there, too, is the butcher with sides 
of beef hanging by hooks from his horse’s 
harness ; while crowded together are those who 
have brought their fruits and vegetables afoot 
many a long mile in early morning. 

There are great piles of yellow oranges ; plan- 
tains, green, brown, and yellow ; pineapples, 
melons, onions, guavas, and lemons ; while 
behind them sit their owners, who laugh and 
joke and make love, and at the same time are 
busy shouting their wares and making bargains. 

Oh, but one must not forget the game-cocks 
fastened to stakes here and there in the midst 
of the busy crowd. Many a trade is made, 
many a bet laid on these ugly, skinny, but 
greatly admired cocks as they pull at their 
stakes. 

Later in the day no sign of this busy scene 
is left in the public square. One notices for 
the first time that there is a band stand, and 


104 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


when the evening comes, Manuel’s father and 
mother are driven with their hosts to this 
square. Many other carriages, filled with 
richly dressed ladies and gentlemen, also arrive 
and take their places at one side of the band 
stand. Here they sit laughing and chatting 
or listening to the music ; the ladies’ black 
eyes sparkle as a favourite tune is played, and 
they keep time by gentle taps of their fans. 

Many of these fans are very beautiful. 
Manuel’s mother has one made of the feathers 
of humming-birds. It is brilliant, even in the 
soft light of evening, and the dear lady herself 
looks very charming with a lace mantilla drawn 
over her head, its point reaching down over 
the forehead almost to her nose. To be sure, 
her cheeks are heavily powdered, but that is 
the fashion of all the ladies in her land, and so 
it seems quite natural. 

The rest of the square is filled with the crowd 
of poorer people who cannot afford to ride. 


The City 


105 


They walk slowly about, and seem to enjoy the 
music and each other’s company as much as 
those who sit in the carriages. 

There are many street processions in San 
Juan, and the children are on the lookout not 
to miss them. These processions are in hon- 
our of some saint. Dolores is out on the bal- 
cony one morning when she hears music. It 
is the voices of children singing. 

cc O Manuel, Teresa, mamma, do come and 
see the pretty sight,” she calls, as a procession 
draws near. 

People dressed in the costumes of different 
lands come marching by ; then follows a cart, 
decked gaily with flowers, and in it stands a 
little girl dressed to represent the virgin mother 
of Jesus. There is a band of music playing 
sacred airs. 

The children take their hats and follow the 
procession to the public square, where the 
little girl in the flower-decked carriage recites a 


io6 Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 


poem written in honour of the day. All busi- 
ness stops in the stores near by. All vehicles 
give way to the procession, and the passers-by 
stand still to admire and listen. 

It seems strange to the children to see the 
red, white, and blue of the American flag float- 
ing over the city, instead of the colours of 
Spain — the red and yellow they were formerly 
taught to love. 

“ But this new flag means friendship, you 
know, Dolores,” says her brother. “ The 
poor will not be taxed so much as they used 
to be, and the good Americans will not allow 
any other people to harm us. At least father 
says so, and he is very wise. Dolores, he has 
promised to take us sometime to that wonder- 
ful city, New York, where we shall see so 
much we have never even dreamed of. I hope 
the time will come soon, for I want to get ac- 
quainted with my American cousins in their 
own land, our own land, now.” 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 

By MARY HAZELTON WADE 

FIRST SERIES 

These are the most interesting and delightful accounts 
possible of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint say- 
ings, doings, and adventures. The “ Little Japanese 
Cousin,” with her toys in her wide sleeve and her tiny bag of 
paper handkerchiefs ; the “ Little Brown Cousin,” in whose 
home the leaves of the breadfruit-tree serve for plates and 
the halves of the cocoanut shells for cups ; the “ Little 
Indian Cousin,” who lives the free life of the forest, and the 
“ Little Russian Cousin,” who dwells by the wintry Neva, 
are truly fascinating characters to the little cousins who 
will read about them. 

Four volumes, as follows : 

Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Brown Cousin 
Our Little Indian Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 

Each i vol., i2mo, cloth decorative, with 6 full-page 

illustrations in tints, by L. J. Bridgman. 

Price, per volume . . . $0.50 net (postage extra) 

Price, per set, 4 vols., boxed . 2.00 net (postage extra) 

“Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruction 
out of Mary Hazelton Wade’s Little Cousin Series. . . . Pleas- 
ing narratives give pictures of the little folk in the far-away lands 
in their duties and pleasures, showing their odd ways of playing, 
studying, their queer homes, clothes, and playthings. • • • The 
style of the stories is all that can be desired for entertainment, 
the author describing things in a very real and delightful 
fashion.” — Detroit News- Tribune. 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 

By MARY HAZELTON WADE 

SECOND SERIES 

The great success and prompt appreciation which this 
charming little series met last season has led to its continua- 
tion this year with a new set of child characters from other 
lands, each as original and delightful as the little foreign 
cousins with whom the little cousins at home became ac- 
quainted in last season’s series. 

Six volumes, as follows : 

Our Little Cuban Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
Our Little Eskimo Cousin 
Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little African Cousin 

Each i vol., i2mo, cloth decorative, with 6 full-page 

illustrations in tints by L. J. Bridgman. 

Price, per volume . . . $0.50 net (postage extra) 

Price, per set, 6 vols., boxed . 3.00 net (postage extra) 

“ Boys and girls, reading the tales of these little cousins in 
different parts of the world, will gain considerable knowledge of 
geography and the queer customs that are followed among 
strange people.” — Chicago Evening Post. 

“ Not only are the books interesting, but they are entertain- 
ingly instructive as well, and when entertainment can sugar-coat 
instruction, the book is one usually well worth placing in the 
hands of those to whom the knowledge will be useful.” — Utica 
Observer. 

“ To many youthful minds this little series of books may open 
up the possibilities of a foreign world to which they had been 
total strangers. And interest in this wider sphere, the beyond 
and awayness, may bear rich fruit in the future.” — N. Y. Com- 
mercial Advertiser. 


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